The Gu Kailai Murder Trial: A Shut and Shut Case

For those in American politics and business who are tempted to rhapsodize about the efficiency of the Chinese system, the murder trial of Gu Kailai has set a new standard. This complex, multi-layered legal drama—involving multiple defendants, allegations of high-level corruption and large cross-border transfers of money—opened on Thursday and was over by nightfall.

Even in the world of Chinese justice, this was a speedy affair. As I described in a preview of the trial this week at Daily Comment, the Communist Party had abundant reasons to keep this trial from lingering on embarrassing details of how one of its most famous lawyers ended up accused of murdering a British businessman and how her husband, the deposed political superstar Bo Xilai, was earning a public-servant’s salary of $1,585 a month during a period when his extended family’s assets climbed to more than a hundred million dollars.

In images broadcast on Chinese state television, Gu stood in the defendant’s dock, wearing a white, open-collar shirt and black suit-jacket. Her short hair—once a fashionable marker among the low-profile and stately wives of top Party officials—was uncombed but not remarkable. Rumored to be suffering from cancer, Gu looked less gaunt than in other photos from recent years, and she appeared relaxed, under the circumstances.

When the trial concluded, the court issued a statement that it “held an open trial” and then reprised the charges that Gu and a household aide named Zhang Xiaojun killed British businessman Neil Heywood “in a dispute over economic interests.” Notably, the court said that Gu did not dispute the charges, and was mentally stable—a signal that she may be coöperating with authorities and be spared the death penalty. One surprise was that Gu is listed as “the principal offender and Zhang Xiaojun as the accessory,” an arrangement that might allow both of them to escape execution. The court’s description of the events also conformed to the most cinematic scenario among those making the rounds in Beijing political circles:

On the evening of November 13, 2011, Bogu Kailai went to Heywood when he was staying in Room 1605 at Building No. 16 of the Nanshan Lijing Holiday Hotel and drank alcoholic drinks and tea with him. After Heywood became intoxicated, vomited and asked for a drink of water, she poured a poison into his mouth that had been prepared beforehand and that she had given to Zhang Xiaojun to bring along, causing Heywood’s death.

There is much about that scenario that is hard to picture. It’s difficult to imagine a privileged, cosmopolitan lawyer—even one driven to rage as the court suggests—not finding a solution better than getting her hands dirty. It’s not impossible, of course, but there’s no way to know for sure because what the court describes as “solid evidence” is unavailable to the public. Were there fingerprints? What about Heywood’s friends’ insistence that he did not drink alcohol?

The court added that the accused were “defended by lawyers they had respectively engaged” and mentioned that “more than one hundred forty people attended the hearing, including friends and relatives of Bogu Kailai, Zhang Xiaojun and the victim Neil Heywood, British consular officials, journalists, People’s Congress delegates, People’s Political Consultative Conference members and members of the public.” But those statements did not jibe with evidence that is more accessible. Family and friends of the accused had complained in advance that lawyers were prevented from meeting the defendants before the trial. As for the “open trial,” that did not apply to foreign reporters, evidently.

A verdict and sentence is to follow. Many people have described this case as a trial of not only Gu Kailai but also of the Chinese judicial system. On both counts, I am not expecting exoneration.

Photograph by Alexander F. Yuan/AP Photo.

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